


Second Rate

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern Thedas, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 04:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10846479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Always second rate, even as the Herald of Andraste. Always losing to her sister, until something changes. For once, someone wants her- not the Herald of Andraste, but Dhaveria Lavellan. Perhaps now, things will be better.Modern AU!





	Second Rate

 

Dhaveria Lavellan climbs out of her car, her high heels click against the pavement as she rounds to the passenger side, she adjusts the straps of her shimmering indigo dress, shrugging on her black leather against the cold weather, she reaches into the car to lift the large, blue wrapped box into her hands, and starts into the nightclub, pausing to check her reflection in a nearby window. Her starlight locks are drawn back with a hair clip, a simple Tanzanite pendant hangs from the gold chain around her neck, showing the column of her dark skin, her violet eyes show no signs of swelling from her previous three  _ months _ of tears, her lips are painted a deep ruby, and the points of her ears are proudly sticking out for all to see. Brushing the skirt of her dress down from the ruffles, she adjusts the box in her arms, sweeping inside the packed, privately reserved club, forcing a smile on her face.

 

Birthdays in her group of friends always seem to have a  _ wild _ turn out, the birthday for Varric Tethras always seem to be the  _ most _ wild of them all, but given that he’s an author of a best selling crime novel, director and producer of a few hit tv shows, and is in line for a movie deal, she’s not surprised. She makes her way to the back of the nightclub, away from the pulsating music and flashing lights, sweaty bodies, and drinking people, to where Varric is sitting with a few people, drinking and,  _ surprise surprise _ , playing Wicked Grace, she presses back the curtain to the smoke-filled room, from the cheap cigars and cigarettes that everyone back here is smoking, allowing a plume of it to waft out, but not before smacking her in the face, making her wave the smoke away, choking on it. “Dammit Riviani! You cheating wench, it’s my birthday party- at least let me win a few!” She hears Varric chuckling, causing her to roll her eyes, shaking her head.

 

“Varric!” A few people look up from her call, she recognizes Hawke with his blue eyes, “blood smeared” nose, and scraggly beard. Along with Isabela, the notorious thief with a knack for all things pirate, and a love of their fashion. There is also Merrill, she’d recognize a first to the Dalish anywhere, even with all the kids slapping vallaslin on their faces nowadays, and calling it fashion. She also recognizes the Warden of the Jail, Aveline, with her red locks and freckles, the tv show does her no justice.

 

“Ah!” Varric grins up at her, taking a gulp of his ale. “Herald of Andraste!” She flushes at the title.

 

“Please, don’t call me that.” She murmurs, setting the gift before the small man, while the others stare at her in surprise, all save for Merrill, who simply seems lost.

 

“Bah hahahaha! The Herald of Andraste’s a bloody elf!? I bet the Chantry bloody loved you!” Isabela crows in laughter, while Varric rips into the bow happily.

 

“Um… something like that.” She murmurs, ducking her head as Varric chuckles.

 

“They didn’t know she was an elf, when they deemed her Herald- once they found out, well, the couldn’t very well take the title from her.” Varric explains with a loud laugh, causing the others to join in.

 

“Why is it, I have a feeling  _ you _ had something to do with that, Varric?” Aveline states, causing the dwarf to press a hand to his chest, feigning a completely aghast look, as if the notion is unthinkable, before shaking his head with a chuckle.

 

“I can’t even pretend to be offended at that accusation. It’s completely true.” Varric turns back to me. “So, what’d you bring me?” He asks.

 

“Open it.” As soon as the words leave her lips, he’s ripping the bow from the top of the box, and pulling the blue wrapping off, before lifting the lid, and pausing at the antique machine sitting there, a smile spreading over his lips. “You said you wanted to work on a typewriter… I just happened to find one in a working condition.”

 

“Aw, thanks snowflake!” He wraps his arm around her waist, hugging her, and just as Varric looks down at the machine once more, Isabela pulls a card from the sleeve of her blouse, causing Varric to point. “AH HA! I caught you!”

 

“Oh poo.” Isabela huffs, looking away as she tosses the card over her shoulder to the floor, and Varric turns back to Dhaveria.

 

“So, where’s Statue? I was sure you and Mister Guardian of Mythal would be here together.” Varric inquires, causing Dhaveria to look away, biting her lip as she tucks a strand of starlight hair behind an ear.

 

“I am here, durgen’lan.” She stiffens at the voice that comes up behind her, huffling out of the way as Abelas slips past her, barely glancing at her as she clears her throat.

 

“Excuse me.” She mutters, moving quickly out of the private area, towards the door, the club atmosphere suddenly seeming too heavy, too thick, too crowded, perspiration builds on her brow, causing her to wipe at it as she slides outside, the humid night kissing his skin as she shrugs off her leather, and leans against the wall, hands on her knees at she attempts to keep a tearful panic attack at bay.

 

“Dhaveria?” She jumps at her name, whipping around to find Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and Emma Mahariel walking up to the club, Dhaveria’s eyes tick over them, using the distraction to calm her mind. Emma is in a burgundy, skin tight, dress with black swirls across the skirt, and a low cut, complete with high heels, and her black locks in curls, pinned back. Cassandra is in a black blouse, with a long black skirt, and black boots, I can see her gun is tucked into one of her boots, and her hair is down for once. Leliana is in a pair of black leather pants, a deep blue long sleeve blouse on, her short hair has flowers braided in it, and her guns are holstered at her sides. Josephine is in a golden blouse with a purple vest over is, her her is pinned back per the norm, and she has a pair of blue jeans of with boots, her PDA is chirping in her hand.

 

“Is everything alright?”Emma asks, her tone is soft, and Leliana leans into her side, enjoying her lover’s gentle tone.

 

“I-I’m fine.” Dhaveria winces at her own lie, looking down for a second. “I didn’t… I didn’t tell anyone, but Abelas and I split, three months ago. It’s… a bit difficult to see him.” She bites her bottom lip again. “I didn’t think about it. That he’d be here. It changes nothing, but I just need a moment to collect myself.” She explains, causing them to nod.

 

“We will see you inside, no?” Josephine asks, causing her to nod, waving them along.

 

“Go ahead. Be in in a sec.” With a skeptic look between the four of them, they enter the club, and Dhaveria palms her face, breathing out, deeply with a sigh. “Okay, let’s try this again.” Shrugging her leather back on, she enters the club again, head held high as she passes right by her elven ex-lover, an all too familiar blonde on his arm now.  _ Second rate again. _ She frowns to herself, shaking her head.  _ So what if you aren’t her. She stole your boyfriend, what kind of sister does that?! _ Dhaveria walks over to the bar, ordering a shot, which she throws back as soon as the glass in full, wincing bitterly at the flavor, and she beckons for another.  _ This will help me get through the night. I can do this. _ She smiles to herself.  _ I can do this. _


End file.
